Too Many Starscreams: Part 2
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction and is not intended for profit. All Transformers characters are property of Hasbro/Takara.
Author's Note: This is the second part of a story started on the Comics in Disguise forums. To read part 1, visit the forums at www dot comicsindisguise dot com. It is deliberately unfinished in hopes that someone else will pick up the torch and write part 3.
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Jazz was trying to figure out what he had done to irritate Optimus Prime. The Autobot leader was known for his patient and understanding nature, but the saboteur knew that every mechanism had his breaking point.
It had most likely been the all-night karaoke party he had helped Blaster organize in honor of the Autobots' third anniversary of reactivation on Earth. Prime had seemed to enjoy himself at the time, but he was significantly less pleased about the "highlights reel" that had been leaked to the Earth media the next day. Not that the recording, which had been featured on the national news, did anything to damage the Autobots' reputation with the humans. Like most of the other rare glimpses into the Autobots' unofficial lives, the recording of the Autobot Commander crooning "Wonderful Tonight" to a startled Elita-One created a sensation among the humans.
Blaster had been kept busy in the week that followed fielding requests from news and entertainment shows seeking to interview or book Prime for their programs. Having to turn down scores of anxious (and well-connected) humans was hard for the Earth-loving communications officer, especially when MTV called with a very handsome offer to feature the Autobot commander at its annual Music Awards show. But Prime remained adamant. He would not repeat his performance.
Jazz had also not been officially censured for his part. Prime could hardly punish the saboteur for both improving morale and enhancing the Autobots' reputations on Earth, especially as no one knew quite how the tape made its way to the media in the first place. But the wily Porsche sensed the subtle displeasure of his CO behind his current patrol assignment.
"Watch where you're driving, Tracks. You're kicking up grit on my paint job," whined Sunstreaker, swerving to pull around the blue Corvette in the column zipping down the country highway.
"Watch yourself," Tracks sneered, "if you weren't crowding my bumper, I wouldn't get dirt on you. Why don't you stay back?"
"You're too slow." Sunstreaker taunted, pulling back into line in front of the other warrior. "I'm tired of looking at your tacky aft anyway."
"And I'm tired of listening to you two bicker," snapped Cliffjumper. "You should be looking for the Deceptibums, or are you afraid of getting scratched?"
"I'll scratch you," Sunstreaker snarled, speeding ahead to crowd Cliffjumper from his lane. The smaller vehicle was forced onto the shoulder, kicking up a plume of dust that sifted down on the Autobots behind. A chorus of complaint arose, as Cliffjumper skittered and swerved to pull in behind the yellow Lamborghini.
"Hey guys," Jazz said soothingly, "cool it."
"Yeah," said Hound from the front of the column. "I'm picking up something incoming on my long range scanners."
"That's just great," moaned Huffer. "This is the perfect place for an ambush."
Unfortunately Huffer was right. The Autobots had been following a secondary road that wound through the sparse badlands to the south of their base. There wasn't much cover, and they were a long way from home. The only positive side was that they were also a long way from any human settlement.
"Autobots, transform," Jazz called out. "Take up defensive positions."
The column split and scattered as the Autobots transformed and spread out. Hound stood near the road, optics and sensors sweeping the horizon. Tracks and Sunstreaker moved away from the group, looking for some cover or a bit of high ground. Huffer and Cliffjumper stood together, weapons ready, watching the sky. Jazz opened a radio frequency to contact the Ark, but his receptors were filled with the familiar white noise of a jamming signal. Slag! They were on their own. He raised his photon rifle.
Flying low and coming in from the south the jets streaked overhead with a rumbling whoosh of hot air. The Autobots all stood frozen, confused as the three climbed and banked to turn. The shape was right, the wickedly pointed nosecones, the wedges of wings and tail fins, the slender, deadly under wing cannons coming around to bear. But the color was all wrong. These jets were…
"PINK?!?" whooped Sunstreaker. "Oh, Primus, I wish 'Sides was here. Look at those pretty pink Seekers."
"Indeed," called Tracks with a smirk on his aristocratic lips. "Definitely an interesting fashion decision. Not one I'd make."
"Hey, Hound," called Cliffjumper. "Are you getting this?"
"Sure am," the tracker called back merrily. "Smile for the camera, fly boys."
The lead pink jet spat out a muffled curse and dove, firing wildly. The Autobots below skipped out of the way of the poorly aimed shots.
"Someone's angry," Hound observed mildly. "That's not right."
"Yeah," Jazz said. "Pink's more of a happy color, y'know."
"Definitely," said Tracks sardonically. "The humans use pink extensively to show love and affection. It's the favorite color of many juvenile females. You should see Raoul's cousin's backpack; exactly that shade. She's nine."
The jets turned again, breaking formation. They flew up, diving and rolling as the Autobots fired. Then they pulled together for another strafing run.
The pink Seekers concentrated their fire on Jazz, forcing him to duck and roll to get out of their way. He saw Sunstreaker and Tracks signaling him and moved their way as the warriors laid down a hail of cover fire. The jets pulled up, scattering.
"What are they doing?" Jazz muttered to himself. "And where's Megatron?"
"I don't know," grunted Sunstreaker as he swiveled to keep his weapon trained on the rosy shapes speeding above. "I'll bet my taillights this is a diversion, though."
"It's definitely a distraction," Tracks said. "But what are those paint jobs in aid of? Other than an assault on our good taste, I mean."
"I dunno," Jazz said. "We've got them outnumbered for now. But I'm worried about what the other 'cons are up to."
"Maybe we should bring one down," Sunstreaker said. "We could pummel a little information out of him then."
"Good idea," Jazz said. "But which one?"
"Starscream's the most likely to talk. He might even tell us everything if we just get him mad enough." Sunstreaker said. Jazz trusted the golden warrior's assessment of the situation. The Lamborghini twins had tangled often enough with the Decepticon jets to know them very well.
"Right," Jazz nodded. "Starscream it is. Which one d'you think he is?"
The Autobot trio studied the three Seekers as they regrouped for another strafing run. Jazz knew Starscream usually flew point in their formation, but not always. Maybe they could get the Air Commander to give himself away. He raised his photon rifle and aimed at the incoming foe.
"Man, I can't tell them apart," Jazz said aloud. "Hey, Sunstreaker, would your brother pay off on the Seeker pool if I bring any of these bozos down?"
"I don't think so," Sunstreaker said lazily. "The pool's only good on Megs's elite Seekers. These must be some second string reinforcements, like the Coneheads."
"Too bad," said Tracks. "I was going to use that money for a new paint job."
"You need one," Sunstreaker sneered.
"Look who's talking," Tracks spat back.
"SHUT UP!" screeched the left hand jet. "You Autobots are enough to drive anyone MAD. If you were in MY command I would rip out your vocal processors and melt them to SLAG!"
"That's him," said Jazz coolly as he squeezed off his shot. Tracks and Sunstreaker immediately followed suit. The three bolts hit the jet on the canopy and wings, forcing it to drop down out of formation. Their volley was followed by a second strike by Hound and Huffer that sent the jet into a spiraling nose dive. The stricken Air Commander plowed up a tremendous furrow of red dirt and sand before grinding to a halt about a half-mile away.
With a whoop and a holler, Sunstreaker and Cliffjumper transformed and sped off to the crash site. Jazz and the others moved more slowly, firing at the two circling Seekers to keep them from coming too close or attempting to rescue their fallen leader.
Jazz walked up to find a heartwarming sight. Sunstreaker was sitting on the pink Air Commander's knees and pinning his arms to the ground while Cliffjumper stood on Starscream's wings and pointed his infamous glass gas gun at the Decepticon's head. Starscream was groggy but defiant as he sneered at the Autobot lieutenant.
"Well, Autobot, go ahead and kill me," he said.
"Starscream, how could you think I'd go ahead and do something like that?" Jazz asked, putting on a hurt expression. "And after all we've meant to each other, too."
"I've been through enough today. I'd rather not have to put up with you as well," the Decepticon said wearily. "So kill me and get it over with."
"Aw Starscream, don't be like that, baby," said Jazz, strangely touched by the pathetic pink figure splayed at his feet. "You know we Autobots don't kill helpless prisoners."
"So let me up. You can say I was trying to escape. I'm already humiliated. You can't do anything worse to me," the Decepticon vented a sigh and looked up past Jazz at the dusty blue sky.
"I'm not going to do that," Jazz said. "But I will make you a deal. Give us the information we want and I'll give you a choice."
"What information? What choice?" Starscream asked, obviously more interested in living than he was willing to admit.
"Tell us what Megatron is planning…"
"And why they're pink." Hound put in.
"Yeah," seconded Cliffjumper and Sunstreaker.
"And why you're pink. And we'll give you a choice. We'll let you go; with the understanding that this fight is over, of course. Or we'll take you back as our prisoner to the Ark. Megatron always redeems you eventually and you might like the rest. So, Starscream, what's it gonna be?" Jazz asked, regarding the Decepticon thoughtfully.
"Curse you Autobots and your compassion," Starscream said bitterly. "Why can't you just shoot us?"
"Sometimes, Screamer, there's nothing I'd like better." Jazz replied.